


Fracture

by teaaru



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mental Instability, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22665460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaaru/pseuds/teaaru
Summary: Will Graham has never been whole.An exploration of the cracks and pitfalls of his psyche.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

His first cogent memory is of silence and a locked door.

Other details come to him if he focuses hard enough: the uneven lumpiness of the couch that he calls his bed with the smell of smoke and one too many microwaveable dinners clinging to it; the scratchy threadbare blanket that does little to ward off the cold in the trailer; a darkness so complete he can’t have seen his small hands in front of him, even if he tried; and—

Of course, he doesn’t forget: the strip of light under the door, shadows moving across it for an interminable amount of time.

But here, his memory fractures in two: his breath, forcibly slow and even, until—

—he hears a loud click! And the strip of light is gone. Now, he can close his eyes, body sinking into the couch and straight into sleep.

—the light reaches towards him, the door has swung open and there: an unmoving shadow in the shape of a man. His blanket offers no resistance once again, especially to something more tangible than temperature: a bruising grip that threatens to break fragile bone.

He is pulled into the light.

The night is no longer quiet.

*


	2. Chapter 2

The shadow follows him into daylight, hiding under the skin of William Graham Sr.

He was Bill, to his fellow fishermen (if they do talk outside from quiet grunts and nods of acknowledgment). _Oh Billy_ , to the matronly widow in the next trailer over (especially when he comes home three days late to pick up his son). Out fishing, to anyone who asks at the door. 

But to Will, he simply was--

"Daddy," he breathes out, voice high with pain as he tries to pull away and not to let the tears fall.

The sun is high in the sky, spilling across their gap-toothed blinds and-- Will sees it, the murky shadow moving under Daddy's skin before ripping clean, starting from the black, clawed hand grinding his delicate, bird bone wrists to dust.   
  
He screams, fighting to get away as he watches William Graham Sr. reduced to strips of skin and bone, blood seeping into the ugly brown carpet of their trailer.

The shadow strikes him across the face, and he falls into Daddy's blood, fingers scrambling at pulling his flesh together. Maybe if he does a good enough job at putting him back together, the shadow will go back under his skin instead of Will's. 

But his small hands can only do so much before he's dragged away, smearing red all over.

* * *

When he next wakes, the sun has already set. He can barely open his eyes, let alone move... but the oppressive, muggy heat of Louisiana summer days have given way to a slightly cooler night. He's been tucked back into the lumpy sofa that serves as his bed, his blanket pulled over him .

He cranes his head over the back of the sofa, looking at the carpet. It's still the same, ugly brown color. No piles of skin and bone. There's no lingering scent of blood in the air, the way guts do when his Daddy cleans a boatload of fish in their sink to stuff in the freezer.

Will closes his eyes and shrinks into the cushions. He presses a palm to his swollen cheek and swallows down a whimper-- before pressing even harder. This is the only way he knows that it was real. 


End file.
